Texas Gold

by Tracy Garrett

  “Injun!”

  Jake heard the whispered word. He closed his eyes and sighed at the hate and fear bred into such a young child. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The boy stared at him. “You talk like I do.”

  “Sure I do. I’m a Texas Ranger.”

  “A real Ranger?” Awe filled the three whispered words.

  Jake felt a smile twitch his lips. He sounded just like Nathan. “My name’s Jake McCain. What’s yours?”

  “C-Calvin.”

  Jake strained to hear the reply. “Are you the only one back there, Calvin?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you lying to me, boy?”

  Blue eyes rounded in terror. “No, sir.”

  “All right then. Come on out of there.”

  “I can’t.”

  The words came out on a sob and Jake’s heart softened. “Take it easy. I’ll come to you.”

  He moved carefully, not entirely satisfied that the boy was alone. Instead of approaching from the front, as anyone lying in wait would expect, he silently retraced his steps and came in from behind. As he looked over the pile of boxes behind the child, Jake saw why he couldn’t come out. He swore as he shoved crates aside. The boy was tied, hand and foot, and held in place by a stake driven into the rock. A bowl of water and a plate of food had been left where he could reach it, as long as he strained against his bonds. Jake fought down the urge to go after the men and shoot every last one of them in the back like the cowards they were.

  “Hang on, son. I’ll cut you loose.” The boy gasped at the long knife Jake slid from his boot. Jake glanced up from his task and grinned at Calvin’s wide-eyed stare. “I used to have a shorter one, but I had to take my boot off to reach it.”

  The boy smiled a little, relaxing enough for Jake to slice through the ropes that held him. Blood seeped from Calvin’s wrists and ankles where the ropes had torn his skin. No telling what other injuries he had.

  Jake looked around. The boy had enough food for a day, not the week the men planned to be gone. Unease washed down his spine. Something didn’t add up. If they weren’t coming back for a week, why leave the boy with so little food? If they were going to starve him to death, why keep him alive at all? That could only mean someone was coming back—soon.

  The moment the ropes fell away, the boy half-ran, half-dragged himself toward a stack of crates off to one side.

  Jake pulled one revolver and checked the load. “Calvin?” He didn’t want to scare the boy, but he was getting jumpy. They needed to leave.

  The boy ignored him and kept clawing at the lid of one box until it came loose and the contents spilled to the dust. Silver coins mixed with trinkets and a blond-haired doll in a green and white dress. It was the toy the child snatched from the pile. Gripping it close, he took one shuddering breath after another. Jake went to him and put a hand on his shoulder, but the boy shrugged free.

  “Who did the doll belong to?”

  Calvin just cried harder, sobbing until Jake couldn’t stand it anymore. “Son, I need you to pull yourself together for just a while. We have to get out of here.”

  Tears still rolling down his cheeks, the boy gathered the scattered coins, a pocket watch, a photograph in a rough-hewn wooden frame, and the doll. He tied everything into a pretty light blue shawl and hugged the bundle close. Without looking at Jake, he turned toward the entrance and managed two steps before he collapsed, so weak his legs wouldn’t hold him.

  “Hold on a minute.” Jake tucked his pistol back into its holster and dropped to one knee, his back to Calvin. “Climb on, son. We’ll get there faster.”

  Jake showed him how to hold on as he pulled the boy’s battered legs around his waist. Keeping Calvin secure with one hand, Jake drew his gun and headed for the sunlight that illuminated the entrance. For a moment, he considered throwing a match into the stolen goods left behind, but thought better of it. The riders were still close enough to see the smoke and return to investigate. Better to leave everything and let them think Calvin had escaped on his own. That gave him an idea.

  Lowering Calvin to the ground, Jake motioned for him to stay put and went back into the cave. He dug around until he found the little knife he’d glimpsed in the box of Calvin’s possessions. It was a small blade with a dull edge. Perfect.

  Jake moved the crate close enough to where the boy had been tied to make it look possible for him to have reached the box. Then he hacked at the ends of the ropes still hanging from the wall. Unless they looked real close, the bandits would think the boy got to the knife and cut himself loose. He could request a detail of Rangers be sent to the cave to recover the goods and finish the gang off for good.

  He took the knife to Calvin, who waited where he’d been left. “You should hang on to this. It’s a good blade. Just needs some sharpening.”

  While Calvin stuffed it into his pocket, Jake slipped to the cave opening and stood still, listening. Crouching down, he leaned forward until he could see out. Nothing moved on the land, but still Jake couldn’t relax. His instincts told him something was coming and they didn’t want to be here when it arrived. Returning to Calvin, he lifted the boy to his back again, and headed out of the cave and into the rocks where Griffin waited.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Griffin came out of the rocks at the same spot Jake had. “Sometimes,” he confided to Calvin, “I think that horse is part dog. You’d almost believe he can track a scent with the best of them.” He eased his burden to the ground and checked the horse for injury before tightening the cinches.

  When Jake turned, he bumped into Calvin, who was crowding close and staring at the big animal, his blue eyes huge in his face. “He won’t hurt you. Let me introduce you.” He took the bridle in one hand to keep Griffin steady. “Calvin, this is Griffin.” He patted the horse’s neck. “Meet my new friend, Calvin.”

  The word “friend” brought a small curve to the boy’s lips. Though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was a start. Griffin lowered his huge head to sniff the small hand gripping the bundle. Moving very slowly, Calvin patted the black nose. When Griffin blew warm air into his palm, Calvin grinned. It was the best sight Jake had seen since he first saw Rachel smile.

  He helped Calvin stow his bundle and laced the saddlebag closed. “Now I’m going to lift you up.” Fear clouded the child’s eyes again. “Have you ever been on a horse before?”

  Calvin nodded, but Jake could tell something wasn’t right.

  “That’s not a problem. Griffin is real easy to get used to. You’re going to sit back here.” He pointed to the wide haunches behind the saddle. “Then just hold on to me. Think you can do that?”

  The nod was almost imperceptible, but it was there. Jake grasped Calvin under the arms and lifted him into place, holding on until the boy settled down. Then he put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up, swinging his right foot over the saddle horn. It was awkward, but it got the job done. “Hold on, son.” When the boy’s arms were wrapped around Jake’s waist, he lifted the reins and nudged Griffin forward.

  The boy didn’t scream, but if the sudden tightening of his hands in Jake’s shirt was any indication, he wanted to. The cold wind blew down the open valley as they set out. If Jake could feel it, Calvin would be chilled through in no time. “We’re just going over into those rocks.” He indicated the far side of the wash with a nod. “Then we’ll stop for a minute.”

  Jake aimed Griffin south, in the same direction the gang had gone, looking for a place to veer off where his tracks wouldn’t be noticed. If they had a decent tracker among them, Jake wasn’t going to leave a trail for him to follow.

  He had to go farther than he’d wanted, but he finally found a spot where they’d allowed their horses to run close to the edge of the rocky hillside. They’d never see Griffin’s tracks. Jake let the horse pick his way into the rocks, putting the cave behind them for good. Once they were out of sight, he slid from the saddle and shrugged off his coat.

&nbs
p; “Here, son, put this on.” Calvin looked at the coat, then at his bloody wrists. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll get you cleaned up when we stop for the night.” He helped the boy pull on the heavy wool and left him to button it. Digging in his saddlebags, he found his extra wool shirt and the rain slicker.

  Even with the extra clothes, it was turning cold. They needed shelter for the night, wood for a good fire and plenty of water. He wanted to get Calvin’s wounds cleaned. To do it properly, he should use iodine and alcohol, two things he didn’t carry with him. But Rachel had them.

  Jake patted Griffin’s neck, considering. The boy needed a safe place to stay while Jake went after the outlaws, and someone to take care of him while he healed. Rachel was the perfect answer. Since Calvin was in Jake’s care, he could buy food and supplies and pay her to care for the boy until Jake could return him to his parents. And Rachel would have to accept the supplies, since it was Ranger business.

  He grinned, pleased with himself. When he looked up, Calvin was staring at him. “What you looking at?”

  Jake wanted to kick himself when the light faded from the boy’s eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with looking, son. I just wondered if I’d grown donkey’s ears or something.”

  Calvin’s lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Getting him to talk would have to wait. Jake wanted to get on their way to Rachel.

  Despite himself, his heartbeat sped up at the thought of seeing her again. Other parts of him reacted, too, and it was going to make climbing into the saddle less than comfortable.

  Jake could almost smell her skin, feel the silk of her hair between his fingers. He was so distracted he nearly missed the sound of running horses coming from the direction of the cave.

  He slid his rifle from the saddle scabbard. “Stay put,” he ordered Calvin before moving to a point in the rocks where he could see the valley. Five horses stood outside the cave opening, but no riders were in sight. Four of the animals sported fancy new saddles and tack. The fifth, a small pack horse, was an animal Jake knew well. Duchess. His stolen horse. Hope flared that Harrison was nearby.

  Jake crouched low and waited for the men to show themselves. It was only seconds before a shout of fury came from the cave. One man charged into the sunshine. He turned in all directions, scanning the surrounding rocks.

  “You can’t get away, boy. I’ll find you, dammit!” He vaulted into the saddle and began quartering the area, screaming instructions to the others. Two of them jumped to do his bidding, but the third seemed unconcerned with the man’s crazy ravings, concentrating instead on the tracks in the mud. It wasn’t until the leader turned his back and Jake spotted the long yellow hair brushing the man’s shoulders that he was certain who it was. Harrison! Jake finally had him in his sights. His trigger finger started to itch, the need for revenge grinding a hole in his gut.

  Jake clamped down on his desire to shoot the son-of-a-bitch where he stood. Harrison was too far away. He’d only give himself away. Jake scanned the area and picked a better vantage point. He planted his hands on the rocks, preparing to crawl to the new position, when he felt someone staring at him. Jake froze. He knew he wasn’t visible, but the third man studied the exact spot in the rocks where Jake hid.

  Long seconds ticked by while the man watched, his stare never wavering from Jake’s hiding place. Finally the man turned away, but Jake still didn’t move. If he was any good, he would...

  There. The tracker spun back suddenly and focused on the same spot, exactly as Jake would have done—wait a heartbeat or two, then look back and catch the man you’re hunting in the act of changing positions. Jake took care not to stare and draw the tracker’s attention. Even so, he would have sworn their gazes locked and held for a time before the man acknowledged him with a slight nod. Then, he turned his back on Jake and walked toward his horse, his pace unhurried.

  A couple of months ago, Jake had received word from the colonel in command of Fort Griffon, up on the northern plains of Texas, that a man named Cain Richards was pursuing the gang of men who’d murdered his wife and stolen his children.

  Over the last couple of months, Jake had heard stories of the man. Called Wolf by those who knew of him, it was rumored he could track anything. Some swore he could see in the dark. A few thought he could read men’s minds. Could the tracker down there be Wolf? But when had the man thrown in with Harrison?

  None of that mattered right now. Jake didn’t have time to waste. While the men below mounted their horses, Jake slithered backward out of the rocks and retreated toward Griffin. He could backtrack and catch Harrison as he came into the rocks on this side of the valley. Jake rounded the outcropping where he’d left his horse to find Calvin in the saddle, kicking wildly at Griffin’s sides. He’d forgotten about the boy.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Calvin didn’t appear to hear his rough whisper. Desperation and terror were etched on his young face. “Stop it!”

  That did it. Calvin jumped off Griffin and tried to run away, but his weak limbs wouldn’t carry him. Jake caught up with him easily and scooped him from the ground. The boy went crazy, kicking and beating at Jake with his fists. Jake held him close, talking to him constantly keeping his voice low, until the words penetrated the child’s panic.

  “He’s not going to find you. I gave my word you’d be safe.” Calvin wrapped his arms around Jake’s neck and held on, sobbing into Jake’s chest. “Come on, son. Let’s get out of here.” Killing Harrison would have to wait.

  Jake carried Calvin back to Griffin, but when he tried to put him on the horse’s back, the boy wouldn’t let go. Deciding not to waste time arguing, Jake climbed into the saddle with Calvin hanging from his neck, settled the boy across his lap and lifted the reins. Griffin sidestepped to let Jake know he didn’t appreciate being mistreated, then settled into a steady gait.

  Jake adjusted his position in the saddle and turned his attention to the man tracking them. If he’d been successful in hiding his tracks leaving the valley, it might slow Wolf down, but it wouldn’t stop him. It was just a matter of time before they were discovered. For the first time in his life, he thought he understood why people prayed.

  Jake had taken nothing from the cave except the boy. So why was Harrison so intent on finding them? Was it just because someone had been in there? But how could he know? There’d been hundreds of boot prints in that cave. He couldn’t have distinguished Jake’s from anyone else’s. That left Calvin. But what reason would the man have for chasing after a child?

  Jake looked over his shoulder. “Calvin, do you know why Harrison wants to find you so bad?” He thought the boy was going to faint, he turned so pale.

  “He always makes me...stay close to him.”

  Jake didn’t say anything, just let the boy talk.

  “He made me...bed down with him every night after my baby sister...” His voice cracked and Jake’s heart split wide open.

  Calvin’s sobs tore at Jake. “Come here, son.” Calvin launched himself into Jake’s arms, tears running down his face. Jake held the boy tight to his chest, letting the rocking motion of the horse sooth him until he’d cried himself out. “Can you tell me about it?”

  “He hurt my sister first.” Calvin’s shoulders sagged. “I tried to stop him but I couldn’t. He was too strong. Sometimes he’d have another man tie me up so I couldn’t go help her.”

  Jake felt ill. “How old was your sister?”

  “Five, and she was real pretty. Pa always said her hair was the color of sunshine and her eyes looked like a summer sky.”

  Just like Rachel. Jake’s gut clenched as some ugly possibilities came to mind.

  Calvin kept talking. “He called her Rachel. Every night, when he came to get Amanda, he called her that. When she died, he buried her and called her Rachel.”

  Jake’s heart skipped a beat and started pounding. How was he going to keep Rachel safe from a madman who killed small children pretending they were her?

  Calvin’s small shoulders h
eaved under the weight of his grief. “My sister’s name was Amanda.”

  Jake hugged him closer. “I’m sorry, son. When did she die?”

  “Two months ago, maybe more.” Calvin heaved a sigh and scrubbed the tears from his face. “I lost count of how many days we’d been gone before that.” He hunched his shoulders and turned his face away from Jake. “The night she died, he came for me instead.”

  Revulsion filled Jake. What was God thinking, letting a monster like that live to hurt children? He tightened his grip on Calvin. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, son. I wish I’d found you sooner.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped him. Nobody could. Not even my pa.” Jake hugged Calvin close and concentrated on where they were going.

  He kept to the rocks for several hours, holding Griffin to a path where little dirt existed to hold tracks. There would be signs of their passing, but they would be infrequent and far enough apart to make it tough to follow. He changed direction often through the day so he didn’t give a hint of their destination, and only stopped once to dig out some food for Calvin.

  It was growing dark when Jake finally turned the horse into the open and increased their speed. He was miles east of where he wanted to rest for the night and Calvin was fighting to stay awake.

  “Go ahead and sleep, son. I won’t let you fall.”

  He felt the boy’s whole body quake. “I can’t sleep when it’s dark,” he whispered. “It isn’t safe.”

  Hate flooded his mouth with a bitter taste. Harrison would pay dearly for what he’d done to this boy. “It isn’t dark yet. You can sleep for a little while.”

  Calvin tensed as he looked toward the western sky. Then, without warning, he relaxed and dropped into an exhausted sleep. Jake tightened his grip to keep him from falling and increased their pace.

  •♥•

  Several miles behind them, William Harrison took his frustration out on his horse, driving the poor beast at a wild pace until it tripped in an unseen hole and fell, snapping its leg and throwing Harrison several feet into the rocks. He charged to his feet, roaring in fury, and put a bullet through the eye of the animal, ending its misery. It was a merciful act, though the man had no use for mercy. He turned to the next man in line. “Get off.”